


A Simple "Thank You" Would Have Sufficed...

by esperjester



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (NO ONE DIES FROM THE ALLERGIC REACTION DON'T WORRY IT'S A HAPPY END), Bakura is trying his best guys, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Zorc Bakura, Pre-Relationship, Thiefshipping, allergic reactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15939254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esperjester/pseuds/esperjester
Summary: After being brought back to life through Ryou and Malik's combined efforts, Bakura is encouraged by his former host to thank Malik for his part in his resurrection.Of course, Bakura is stubborn and, even after admitting to himself that he should probably thank Malik, can't find it in himself to directly thank him.  So, logically, the only thing he can think to do is cook him a nice, traditional Egyptian dish as a means of thanking him indirectly without actually saying anything at all.How was he supposed to know Malik was allergic to garlic?!





	A Simple "Thank You" Would Have Sufficed...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manganeko96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manganeko96/gifts).



> This is my first fanfic for the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom (a fandom I'm over a decade late to joining, but better late than never!) and my first attempt at writing any of these characters, so I'm sorry if they seem out of character at any point! I'm trying to find my style as far as writing their voices goes so I can do a longer project with them in the future! 
> 
> Also, I'm not Egyptian and can honestly say I know next to nothing of Egyptian cuisine. Google was my best friend while I was looking up food as a point of reference, so if anything regarding the cuisine seems wrong, please feel free to correct me! I won't be upset! 
> 
> That being said, I hope that you all enjoy it!
> 
> Also, to manganeko96: Thanks for indulging me as I rambled about this during our duel the other night and for indirectly inspiring it with your garlic allergy! (I promise to never feed you garlic, ever!)

“You know, you should really be nicer to Malik when he brings you your papers tomorrow.” Bakura frowned at the sudden admonishment from his former host. “He didn’t have to help bring you back, you know. I’m pretty sure he had no real reason to, but he did.”

Bakura snorted.  “He owed me. That’s all there really is to it.” 

“Owed you? For what? Saving Rishid?” Now it was Ryou’s turn to scoff. Bakura had to fight the urge to grin as he noted that precious, harmless, sweet little Ryou Bakura resembled him more than he’d ever admit as he regarded the former spirit of the Ring with a look that was far more piercing than was necessary.  Quite some time had passed since the Pharaoh had passed into the afterlife, and even more had passed since the Shadow RPG’s conclusion.  One thing that seemed certain, however, was that Yugi and Ryou only grew to resemble their predecessors more and more as time passed. 

Just as Yugi had begun to grow taller and his looks grew sharper, resembling Atem in a uncanny and eerie way which made Bakura want to clobber him (thankfully, the lack of that pretentious _shit eating grin_ that the Pharaoh had worn near permanently kept him from acting on it – or else he’d never have heard the end of it from Ryou), his former landlord was beginning to resemble him more and more with each passing day.  As Ryou became more and more used to having full control over his body and mind again, Bakura had started to note that whenever he looked distastefully upon something or on the rare (though much more frequent, recently) occasion that he said something biting, Ryou’s expressions were much more like his own than he would have ever expected. 

Whether that was just muscle memory reacting to the former host’s emotions in the same way it had reacted to his own or it was the natural result of Ryou getting older or becoming less reserved he didn’t quite know, but he appreciated the glimpses of it that he saw all the same.  It reminded him that, for better or worse, the two of them were connected in a way which transcended time and space.  (It also lessened the bitterness he’d felt when, upon being resurrected, he realized that his body was not the body the Thief King, oh no, but rather a slightly aged version of how he looked while he had possessed Ryou years before.)

“Yes,” Bakura started, cutting off his own train of thought in favor of arguing with Ryou. “He owed me for it, bringing me back evens the score and that’s all that there really is to it.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ryou didn’t look the least bit amused, looking down at Bakura where he was sprawled out on the couch incredulously as he continued. “That doesn’t even make sense.  Listen, he had absolutely no reason to help you at all, but he did.  His family was incredibly upset that he agreed to help me bring you back here in the first place, let alone that we succeeded.  And even if it were just about evening a score – which it totally isn’t by the way, there has to be more to it than that – there’s no reason that he should be going through the trouble of using his old Ghoul contacts to get you legal papers or be calling me and asking how you’re settling in.” He sighed, crossing his arms as continued as bluntly as before. “Honestly Bakura, you’re not an idiot.  I know you aren’t.  But sometimes...  In any case, it wouldn’t kill you to say thank you to Malik when he gives you your papers tomorrow.  Or, I don’t know, at least be civil.  He really went out of his way for you.”

“Since when have I ever taken orders from you, landlord?” Bakura laughed, standing up to brush past Ryou and grab a clove of garlic from the kitchen, taking a bite out of it raw and delighting in the way that the other man grimaced as he chewed it.  “Besides, the best thanks that I can offer Malik is to let him get out of my hair and back to his life as quickly as possible.  The sooner the papers are dropped off and he leaves, the sooner he can get back to Egypt and play happy family like he has been since Battle City ended.”  He said it with much more bitterness in his own voice than he would have expected.  Thankfully, Ryou chose not to comment on it, though Bakura could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes and the frown on his face that it had not gone undetected.  He took an even larger bite of garlic just to spite him for his observation skills, making sure to chew loudly and obnoxiously as he stared down his former host.

Ryou sighed but seemed to finally resign himself to the fact that Bakura was going to do as he pleased regardless of what was said.  “Fine, have it your way.  But please consider it?  I _knew_ about what happened to you.  Your motivation and reasons were made clear to me before the end of the RPG, but Malik didn’t even need to know that much.  I hit a wall; I couldn’t find what I needed to pull you out of the shadows and so I reached out to him and asked for help and he just _agreed_ to it.”

“Yeah, and?”  Though he acted dismissive, Bakura had to admit that the idea of it still astonished him.  Malik truly did not have a reason to help him the way that he had, but he’d gone above and beyond for him regardless.  In truth, he’d more than cleared his debt to him though Bakura would never admit it aloud. 

“Just…  I think he missed you.  And I think you missed him.”  Bakura sneered as he made his way back towards the couch, pushing his former host roughly when he obstructed the way, and propped his feet up on the table in front of it as he flipped on the TV in an effort to drown out Ryou.  “I mean it Bakura!”  Seeing his words were falling on deaf ears, Ryou sighed and decided to let the matter drop.  “Fine, be that way.  I guess I’ll just have to be gracious on your behalf since you’re so stubborn.” 

Bakura let out a sigh of relief as Ryou finally exited the room and left him alone with his thoughts. 

Still, he soon found that even without his annoying counterpart in the room lecturing him, he couldn’t help but continue to think about it.  He even begrudgingly admitted to himself that Ryou, as irritating as he had been, did make a good point.  For the life of him, Bakura could see no reason that Malik would be compelled to help him.  Even if he had saved Rishid for him, the subsequent loss in the Shadow Game against Malik’s darker half and his eventual death at the hands of the Friendship Cult practically negated his good deed in the first place (after all, it wasn’t like he was going to be around to hold it over Malik’s head and call in the favor from the Shadow Realm). 

Still, despite the odds, Malik had helped save him.  He’d risked his still mending relationship with his brother and sister and helped Ryou dig through scroll after scroll for weeks looking for a way to resurrect him, then stuck around and helped with the ritual and incantations required to bring him back into the world of the living. 

He growled, flipping off the television (as the noise was no longer a retreat but was now becoming an irritant in its own right) and threw himself down on the couch, grimacing. 

Alright, maybe he did owe Malik something, but admittedly he had no idea where to start as far as thank yous go.  For most of his life he had taken or fought for what he wanted or needed; he hadn’t so much as said “thank you” to anyone since the destruction of Kul Elna. 

Scowling and without an answer, Bakura settled for rolling over on the couch for a nap, hoping that when he awoke that he would have an answer, or at least feel less irritable than he was at the moment. 

\-----

Malik sighed as he approached Ryou’s (and, for the time being at least, Bakura’s) flat, manila envelope in hand stuffed to the brim with anything and everything that Bakura could need to start his new life.  It had been a struggle getting the former spirit to cooperate with him and Ryou as they crafted together his new identity (as Bakura apparently failed to see the point in the papers, stating that he could pose as Ryou should he need to do anything official and didn’t seem to understand what Ryou and Malik meant when they attempted to explain that he couldn’t simply get by as an identity thief for the rest of his life).

He couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated by the way things had turned out, truth be told. 

Even though he had gone into Battle City with misunderstandings clouding his head and vengeance at the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t help but remember at least a portion of that time in his life fondly. 

For the first time in his life he had met someone who he enjoyed being around, and who seemed to (at least to some degree) enjoy being around him as well, outside of his siblings.  Though Bakura had no doubt viewed him as a means to an end, he had to admit that it had felt good being by his side.  In all honesty, Bakura had been the closest thing to a friend that he had come in his life.  Yugi and the others had warmed up to him, sure, but he still felt like his siblings and the others tended to walk on eggshells around him.  It was as though they expected him to morph back into his darker persona any time he got the slightest bit worked up (a fear he himself still worried about, truth be told, but the lack of faith the others seemed to have in him in that regard only made it worse). 

Bakura had never feared such things.  Where the others had only seen madness and seemed to shrink away, Bakura had faced Malik’s greatest fear, his nightmare come true, with him head on and never once cowered from it or coddled him as a result. 

Malik missed that.  More than he ever expected that he could.  So when Ryou Bakura had called him up a year ago, seeking a way to bring back his fiendish not-quite-friend but also not-quite-enemy, it hadn’t taken much for him to accept and begin searching alongside him for a way to bring back the spirit.

He really shouldn’t have expected much, but even if it hadn’t gone quite as he’d expected, he couldn’t bring himself to regret bringing Bakura back either.  While he had hoped for a warmer reception and a chance at companionship with his former partner, he was happy enough knowing that he’d helped give Bakura a second chance at life – especially now that he was privy to the more gruesome details of the man’s tragic past.

And so, he found himself waiting for a response to his knocks on the door of the Bakura residence, steeling himself for any arguments or fights with the former spirit (Bakura was just as argumentative as he remembered, and he should not have found that as endearing as he did) and preparing himself for what was likely to be a quick visit. 

Malik heard the latch on the door click and a moment later Ryou was there beaming up at him.  “Malik!  It’s good to see you again!” 

Malik smiled as he held out the manila envelope.  “Good to see you too.  I won’t keep you long, but I have all the documents that Bakura will need to prove his citizenship and make his way around.”

“Ah, that’s so great!  I really appreciate it, Malik!  And even though he’s too much of an ass to actually say it, I’m sure that Bakura does too!”  Ryou’s smile widened as he took the envelope from Malik and ushered him inside. 

Malik raised a brow curiously as he noted that Bakura wasn’t in his usual seat on the couch the way he had been the last couple of times Malik had come over to plan for the documents with him.  “Speaking of him, where is he?” 

“Bakura? Oh,” Ryou’s smile morphed into a smirk which, Malik noted, bore an uncanny and slightly unsettling resemblance to Bakura’s.  It fell off his face nearly as quickly as it had appeared, had Malik blinked it was likely he would have missed it entirely, and gave way back to his usual saccharine sweet smile. “Well, he won’t _say_ it, per say.  But, I think it’s safe to say that he really is grateful.”  His eyes brightened as he grinned, holding up a finger and gesturing vaguely behind him.  “Do you smell that?” 

Now that he mentioned it, Malik did smell something simmering in the kitchen behind Ryou.  He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that his attention was drawn to it he noted that the scents wafting through the air held hints of spices he recognized as more commonplace in Egyptian cuisine than in Japanese. 

“Bakura said that since you were going out of your way to bring him his papers, that he’d cook something for you.  Well, his exact words weren’t as nice as that, but I’ve learned to take what I can get with him.” 

Malik couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that, a welcome distraction from the flush rising in his cheeks at the thought of the other man cooking for him.  “He didn’t have to do that.” 

“Trust me, you can’t make Bakura do anything he doesn’t want to so I vote that we just accept this rare instance of generosity on his part and enjoy whatever he made.  I mean, it could be a sign that he’s going insane or getting sick, but at least we’ll get good food out of it!”

“He was always a bit insane.”  Malik laughed.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Touché.”  Malik conceded, smiling as Ryou began to walk back towards the kitchen.  “Did he say what he was making?”

“Um… Mol… Molo-something?”

“ _Molokhiya_?” Malik’s face lit up, it was a basic dish often served with flatbread, but it was something which Isis and Rishid had been serving him since he was a child and it had been awhile since he’d last had it.

Ryou snapped his fingers and nodded enthusiastically as a means of confirmation. “Yeah! That’s the one!”  He then waved him on, beckoning him closer.  “Come on, I’m excited to try it!”

Malik couldn’t fight the smile that worked its way onto his face as he followed him back into the kitchen where Bakura and a pot of fresh stew awaited them. 

\-----

For the rest of his life, Bakura would blame Ryou for what happened next. 

Dinner had started out about as well as it could have considering it was Bakura, Ryou, and Malik all gathered around Ryou’s tiny apartment kitchen table arguing, joking, and fighting with one another as they downed bowl after bowl of Bakura’s _molokhiya_.  He’d felt incredibly and uncharacteristically warm and fuzzy as Malik dug into the meal and enthusiastically heaped praises onto Bakura for his cooking skills, particularly excited about the lack of meat in the dish as well as Isis and Rishid tended to cook their own with lamb or chicken – assuring him all the while as he grew that he needed some protein in his diet if he wanted to grow well despite his constant assurances that he could grow just as well without it. 

It was his mother’s recipe, one of the few things that Bakura could remember from his life before the massacre of Kul Elna was helping his mother prepare dinner when she made the stew and he was secretly delighted that his former-host-turned-flatmate and former-partner-turned…something, were enjoying the dish as much as they were. 

Then everything came crashing down. 

Malik had been halfway through his second helping when it started. 

Malik began coughing and wheezing very aggressively and very suddenly.  As Ryou voiced concern and asked worriedly what was wrong, Malik began to swell, gesturing panickily at the soup and then his throat as he tried to calm down. 

Bakura froze, everything around him halted as he watched, numb, as Ryou stood up and continued to ask his questions as calmly and clearly as possible given what was happening to their dinner guest. 

Thankfully, they soon were provided an explanation. 

HOW THE HELL WAS BAKURA SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT MALIK WAS ALLERGIC TO GARLIC?!

In Bakura’s defense, it had never even crossed his mind.  Back when he first was alive, trouncing through the desert and plundering tombs as the Thief King, you either lived or you died and there wasn’t much rhyme or reason as to why outside of plague or the general disapproval of the gods.  The first time he’d been made aware of such as thing as allergies had been when Ryou entered middle school and his classmate had had an allergic reaction to a bee sting, but he’d never considered that Malik would be allergic to anything, let alone food!

After retrieving Malik’s epipen from the bag he’d carried with him to their flat and injecting him with it, Ryou grabbed at Bakura, snapping him out of his trance, and instructed him to remain with Malik and help keep him calm while he called for help.  Normally, Bakura would have bristled and snarled, challenged his former host for having the audacity to command him but in the moment, horrifying as it was, he was _scared_.

What if Malik died?  What if he’d just unintentionally _killed_ him? 

In all honesty, Bakura didn’t know what he’d do with himself if Malik died because of this and he didn’t want to entertain the idea for much longer lest he risk getting lost in the dark thoughts that were clouding his head.  So instead, he settled for obeying the command and sat with Malik, eventually pulling him to his chest and demanding that he try his best to breathe with him rather than risk allowing him give in to his panic and hyperventilate or, worse, suffocate. 

Luckily, help arrived swiftly and before he knew it, he was sitting in the hospital with Malik (having charged through when the nurses attempted to stop him from going back with him) as he waited for the doctor to finish examining him and for Ryou to return from what was sure to be one hellish and incredibly awkward phone call to Isis and Rishid halfway around the globe. 

As the doctor left, explaining that Malik seemed to be out of harm’s way but that they would keep him for observation for the next few hours as a precaution, Bakura found himself hovering at Malik’s bedside before he could stop himself. 

Malik had struggled to speak as they traveled to the hospital, but now he forced a smile onto his face in an attempt to lighten the mood, though it was clear he was exhausted, and rasped.  “Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?”

Bakura felt the final strand of his patience snap and his temper flare. 

“WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU EAT _MOLOKHIYA_ IF YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE ALLERGIC TO GARLIC YOU FUCKING—”  Bakura trailed off into a long string of obscenities in Middle Egyptian, prompting Malik to grimace. 

“I—” Malik attempted to cut him off but trailed off into another coughing fit.  The effect was immediate, however, as Bakura immediately silenced himself, his complexion paling as he did.  Malik, noticing the uncharacteristic concern and (maybe even) fear in his eyes, did his best to stop hacking and beckoned him closer.  Bakura hesitated, but eventually conceded, leaning forward into Malik’s space on the hospital bed as Malik reached out and gripped his arm comfortingly.  “I didn’t think about it.”  He admitted, feeling more than a little bit foolish.  Garlic was prevalent in most traditional Egyptian dishes, but after a scare early in his childhood his father had banned its use in the tombs and Isis and Rishid had continued the practice even after they came to the surface.  It had been so long since he’d thought about it that he’d honestly just forgotten about it. 

In fact, if it weren’t for Isis insisting that he carry his epinephrine with him...  He shuddered, a chill running down his spine.  He didn’t want to think about that right now.  Instead, Malik shifted his gaze back up to meet Bakura’s eyes, which could only be described as looking slightly crazed and panicked in this moment.  He smiled softly up at him, shifting his hand from Bakura’s arm up to the back of his head and pulled him closer, their foreheads meeting one another as he gently pressed them together.  He tried to look as reassuring as possible as he stroked down white hair with his thumb, hoping it soothed Bakura the same way it had soothed him when his siblings had done it to him following the ritual which had carved the markings into his back.  “Hey, it’s ok.  I’m going to be fine.  Don’t worry, it was my fault for not asking about it.”  

He felt more than saw Bakura relax at that, could feel it in the way that the tension suddenly lifted from his body and the way that he pushed them a little closer together, closing his eyes as Malik continued to pet down wild locks of hair.  Eventually, he let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding in and opened his eyes to look at Malik.  “I...  I thought I’d killed you.”  He confessed, frustrated and a bit embarrassed at the sincerity he heard in his voice, but also taking solace in the fact that in a way he wanted Malik to know just how worried he’d been without having to explain it.  From the look in the Egyptian’s eyes, Bakura knew that his meaning had been understood and reached out one hand to grip at Malik’s arm, mimicking what he’d done for him earlier.  “I...”

“I think I know, don’t worry.”  Malik reassured him, smile turning a little more genuine as he said so. 

“Don’t ever do that again.”

It was a command, without a doubt, and Malik couldn’t help but snort in response, chuckling to himself.  Bakura’s eyes shifted into a more familiar expression, one of annoyance, but there was a hint of something else there too...  Amusement?  Malik liked the idea of that.  “Don’t almost die from eating garlic?  I promise you, this is a lesson I won’t soon forget.  I imagine I’ll be interrogating waiters at restaurants about what’s in their dishes anytime I order something a great deal in the foreseeable future.” 

Bakura chortled at that, withdrawing his head to throw it back in a way which reminded Malik of their first few encounters together.  To Malik’s surprise, after he stopped he pressed their heads back together, looking fondly at him (or, he supposed, about as fondly as Bakura could look at something) as his mouth twitched into a smirk.  “I’ll make it up to you somehow.  After all, I made the food that sent you here and you did bring me those papers so that Ryou wouldn’t have to bitch about me pretending to be him.” 

Malik realized that this was likely the closest thing to a thank you he was going to get from Bakura, even if the execution of it had gone all wrong.  “Oh, does that mean you owe me then?”

Bakura scoffed.  “Hmm… Perhaps.  It depends on what you have in mind, Ishtar.” 

Malik couldn’t help but grin at that, a mischievous glint in his eye as he met Bakura’s gaze and his smile widened.  “I’m sure I could think of a few things.”

**Author's Note:**

> ****EDIT (9/17/18): Changed "Ishizu" to "Isis" because the fact that Ishizu isn't an actual Egyptian name was bothering me too much and I've seen it properly rendered by fans as "Isis" before****


End file.
